


We Are Stardust

by amanda_winchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drug Use, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Multi, Swearing, Woodstock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-03-04 14:49:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3072101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amanda_winchester/pseuds/amanda_winchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hippie Sam drags his unfalteringly loyal older brother to Woodstock. Dean ends up enjoying himself more than he'd ever imagined, and he meets people he never expected to love so deeply.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I promised myself a year ago that I would finish this story and post it, so here it is. It's my first major work, so I appreciate any feedback on it. The whole fic goes very well with the song "Woodstock" by Joni Mitchell. I've included lyrics at the beginning of each chapter, and I highly recommend giving the song a listen. Thank you for reading.

_I came upon a child of God_

_He was walking along the road_

_And I asked him, where are you going_

_And this he told me..._

 

_Everybody has a hippie deep down inside them._

 

Or, at least, that’s what Sam had been preaching for the last _four hours_ , while the anxiety brewing in Dean’s stomach continued to worsen. He was beginning to think that if there was anyone who didn’t have any sort of peace keeper inside them it was him, and that he was about to take it out on his little brother. But every single time Dean was about to blow his fuse, he’d look over at his bubbling, ridiculously dressed brother and he’d loosen his grip on the steering wheel. He wasn’t understanding a single word coming out of Sammy’s mouth, but he didn’t need to listen, he’d never had to listen. Not to Sam. Dean knew Sam like Sam knew love, like an ingrained piece of himself had gotten lost in his creation and stitched into his little brother. Dean could take one look at Sam and know just what he was thinking, like Sam had projected his thoughts onto Dean. And that, that was Sam talking. He’d had some possibly-weed-induced ramble about telepathy and how if anyone could be telepathic it would be the Winchester brothers. While it wouldn’t surprise Dean too much if they did have some kind of freak connection, he didn’t feel comfortable agreeing with his brother when he was high. Or ever, really. He loved his brother like hell, of course he did; he loved Sam more than anything else, but the little hippie fucker was insane. Where Dean wanted to enlist in the military, Sam wanted to give troops flowers instead of guns or some crazy shit. Dean was loyal and overly family-dependant, while Sam lived by some sort of free-love-for-those-that-deserve-it philosophy. No matter how wacky the kid’s ideas were, thought, Dean was always there to support him. Which was the reason he was now ostracized at school, and why he’d been stuck in the car for more than four hours now with an over excited teenager.

 

“Dean?” Sam’s voice questioned.

 

“Huh?” Dean answered blearily, and Sam just smiled affectionately, tolerantly. “Sorry Sammy, I was uh,”

 

“Thinking. I know.” Sam said gently. From anyone else it would have been snippy or annoyed, but the only time Dean had ever seen his brother snappy was with John, who could make anyone irritated. “You haven’t been listening for the past hour.”

 

Dean blushed guiltily, feeling a little like he’d let his brother down. Of course, Sam was Sam and he broke his deadpan to break into a wide smile and say : “I’ve been listening to the entire Joan Baez tape.”

 

“AW GOD SAM!” Dean yelled, almost swerving into the other lane in his desperation to pop out the tape. “You listen to the nastiest music.” Dean snapped without any heat, a smile threatening to overwhelm his face. Sam laughed musically. “You’re about to be listening to a lot of it, Dean.”

 

Which brings Dean back to his previous train of thought. Woodstock. He was driving his little brother to _Woodstock_.

 

“I wasn’t gonna let you go to this freak-fest alone.” Dean mumbled under his breath, staring ahead at the road. Which, according to Sam, he didn’t do very much of.

 

“I know.” Sam answered. Dean could feel his brother’s searching brown eyes on him. Sam had always been smart, so smart you could see it in his eyes. They always looked like they cared, and they were never dull. Dean had always been jealous, knowing that his eyes wouldn’t ever shine like his brother’s. No one looked and Dean and thought “genius”; no, Dean was a grunt, always had been, always would be; it was nothing to dwell on. Sam’s intelligent, trademark-worthy stare bugged Dean, made his skin crawl, like Sam could see right through him. Which he of course could. “Thank you.” Sam answered probingly, like he was trying to feel out what was irking his brother.

 

“Yeah, whatever, bitch.” He responded, shutting down any sort of deep, feelings-y discussion his little brother had on his to do list.

 

Sam huffed, deciding not to push Dean any further. “Don’t degrade women like that.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes.

 

So, how did such a non-hippie end up on his way to Woodstock? Several reasons: A, Dean Winchester was the best brother-ever. However, that alone wouldn’t get him through an 18 hour extravaganza across six states. B, he figured he didn’t really have anything else to lose. Not after the last event Sam had dragged him to. Okay, maybe he wasn’t dragged, because he really did like being with Sam, but he hadn’t seen any of the repercussions of the protest at town hall until they’d slapped him in the face. That, however, was another story. C, Sam had threatened to hitchhike all the way from Kansas to New York and Dean had been so sick to his stomach imagining his still tiny little brother being picked up by complete strangers that he’d volunteered his services without a second thought. Sam was naturally scrawny, and while he was growing like a weed, Dean’s parental instincts kicked in whenever Sam got too far away. Besides looking like a twig, Sam had been a vegetarian practically since he’d learned the word, and how well could someone who doesn't eat meat defend himself? D, he’d actually promised Sam years ago. Not that he’d take him to Woodstock, but that he’d take him anywhere in the world he wanted to go for his birthday. He never imagined that he’d choose a giant hippie music festival, but when he had Dean hadn’t complained; he simply told Sam that if he wanted to go to some doped up music orgy, he’d have to hit the age of consent. And there you go, the hippie and the conformist, trapped in an impala together for 18 hours.

 

Dean was really, really hoping the hippie “deep down inside him” surfaced soon.

 

As a Winchester, Dean had the endurance of a marathon runner when it came to driving. A trip from Lawrence, Kansas, to Bethel, New York hardly even registered as strenuous for him. The only problem with this trip was that John didn’t exactly _know_. Everyone in Lawrence knew that John was an incredibly absent father; he’d been that way all of Dean and Sam’s life. John (Dean never addressed him as Dad) was on yet another psychotic wild goose chase to find the serial killer who’d killed their mother. Dean and Missouri, who was watching them while John was away, had estimated that John would be gone about two weeks-plenty of time for the boys to sneak off. Sam was elated and unconcerned: Missouri had a well thought out cover story to present if John were to come home early, and it wasn’t like John, or the man he was hunting, were going to be anywhere near Woodstock. Unfortunately though, Dean had the parental instincts of a mother bear and the desire to follow orders of a military man. He didn’t want Sam to get hurt if John were to find out, and he didn’t want  John to find out he’d disobeyed. It was all a terrible conundrum that he really couldn’t share with his brother; he already knew what Sam would say, and Dean's persistent anxiety was making the trip feel longer than it should have been. Late that night though, they reached the grounds where the anticipated festival would take place. Since it was nearly one in the morning, the boys parked the impala in a dark field and conked out in the car.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam introduces Dean to their new neighbors, and Dean is immediately captivated by one blue eyed man.

_I'm going on down to Yasgur's farm_

_I'm going to join in a rock 'n' roll band_

_I'm going to camp out on the land_

_I'm gonna try and get my soul free_

The next morning, Dean didn’t roll out of “bed” (the front seat of the Impala) until nearly 10. When he did, he found his skinny little brother sitting cross legged on the sleek black hood of the Impala meditating.

 

“Sam!” He yelled, trying to startle him. Sam finished the breath he was taking, and then unhurriedly blinked open his eyes, looking relaxed and content.

 

“Yes?”

 

“What’s the plan for today, Buddah?”

 

Sam untangled his legs and slid off the car, walking ahead and expecting Dean to follow. Dean noted that he’d changed his style from yesterday--going from nice, dark washed jeans, combat boots, a white undershirt, and a red plaid button up to ripped and faded jeans, no shirt, and sandals.

 

 _Hippies_ , Dean thought with amused distaste.

 

“After I did my sun salutation,” Sam said in a tour guide voice, “I did a bit of exploring.”

 

Dean took a moment to observe his surroundings in the now glittering sunlight. He’d parked the Impala at the base of an embankment, a small hill, really, and there were no other humans, hippie or otherwise, in sight. Sam had vehemently _insisted_ on getting to the festival 2 days early, claiming everyone else would arrive three days in advance. Dean was about to make a snarky comment, something around the lines of “I told you so”, when he reached the top of the hill that had been blocking his view.

 

“I discovered that we parked a bit away from everyone else, so I pitched up our tent for you in an empty spot.” Sam finished with a grin as Dean stared.

 

He was certainly glad Sam had gotten up early to do his yoga shit, because an empty spot looked like an impossible commodity at this hour. There were people _everywhere_. All of what Dean was assuming was a once empty field was now littered in a colorful patchwork of tents. Some were almost touching one another, and the entire area seemed muddy, dirty, and--Dean could already tell from his elevated viewpoint-- _smelly_. That of course was Dean’s cynical perception, but to Sam, the view was nothing short of magnificent. There were hundreds of thousands of people who looked like him, thought like him, and loved music like him. No one was fully dressed, but everyone had a beaming grin on their faces.

 

Sam turned to Dean with an ear to ear grin. Dean momentarily saw the whole event through Sam’s eyes, and everything was worth it. All the scrimping and saving, all the begging and pleading, all the misery of planning and the anxiety of lying. It was worth anything just to see Sam smile like that. Sam, who always desperately tried to make Dean feel welcome around his crowd of friends, took his hand and spoke seriously.

 

“There are some really nice people here Dean, if you give them a chance.” Sam was trying to be encouraging, but there was also a note of pleading in his voice. If Dean didn’t have a good time, Sam wasn’t going to be able to, either. He needed to see that Dean was enjoying it before he could enjoy himself; however, what Sam didn’t seem to realize that his being happy was what made Dean happy. So Dean offered a smile, a real one that went all the way up his face, not just stopping at his lips.

 

Satisfied, Sam started down the hill and into the fray, dragging Dean by the hand and babbling about the kids he’d pitched his tent next to. Dean was only half paying attention, but Sam was mentioning something about some “really pretty girls”, and Dean was grateful for his little brother’s consideration. You know, if you can’t get laid at a place where the big idea is “free love”, then you simply cannot get laid. As soon as Dean came down from his lofty hilltop and onto the same level as everyone else, the first thing he noticed was the smell of pot. He wrinkled his nose when the scent hit him, but it honestly wasn’t the smell he’d been expecting. While he knew everyone here would be smoking, including his brother, he’d thought that the smell of unwashed, sweaty bodies would overwhelm any competition. So the weed was a pleasant surprise; some of these people looked like they hadn’t bathed in months. Dean was beginning to wonder how on _earth_ he was going to survive this week (being the clean-shaven, overly hygienic man he was) when Sam announced that they had arrived. The first thing Dean noticed was how large his tent looked in comparison the the neighboring one. The second thing he noticed was how many people crawled out of that tiny tent. Sam tapped his knuckles to the tent, and, after a moment of giggling, four girls spilled out. The two blondes and the wavy haired redhead took a moment to disentangle themselves from one another on the ground, while the fourth, a thin girl with short scarlet hair, a bright smile and even brighter brown eyes, watched them in gentle amusement. When they righted themselves, the shortest of the group, a curly headed blonde, stepped forward and introduced herself.

 

“I’m Jessica!” She said brightly, stepping forward brashly into Dean’s almost personal space, much closer than most girls would push for. She was obviously a natural leader and completely unsubmissive like the majority girls Dean knew. He liked her spunk.

 

“Hi.” Dean replied, a light blush coloring his face.

 

Jessica noticed his blush and looked amused, almost smirking. Then she began introducing her fellow girls. “And that,” She said, pointing to the other blonde, “Is April. The wavy ginger is Charlie, and that’s Anna.” Jessica watched his face expectantly, hoping Dean would soak that up and waiting for the literal light bulb to go off over his head. Unfortunately, he wasn’t very good with names. He was trying to absorb the influx of information and pretty girls when a fifth hippie appeared from inside the tent. This time, it was a dude, and Dean, still adjusting to hippie culture, immediately passed a subconscious judgement on him for being in a tiny tent with four gorgeous girls. His judgement ended when the man, previously stooped over, rose to full height and flashed Dean a smile. Even though Dean would deny it vehemently, Sam could have sworn Dean had the breath knocked out of him. To say that Cas was striking would be absolutely true, but to Dean, he was breathtakingly (literally) gorgeous. Distracted by deep, ocean blue eyes Dean barely registered that the man was speaking to him.

 

“Huh?” Dean said, knocked out of his stupor. Sam smirked.

 

“I said, hello.” The man replied in a low, gravelly voice, looking amused. Dean panted a little harder for air. Dean was still thinking and observing, mostly checked out of the conversation, distracted by cerulean eyes.

 

_Is he stoned?_

 

“Generally, yes.” Blue eyes said, with a smile even wider than before.

 

_Shit, did I say that out loud?_

 

The man smiled again. “Yeah, you did.” Then the hippie took his hand and shook it, keeping steady eye contact with Dean. “I’m Castiel.” He informed him, and Dean would have sworn that he was being spoken to through Castiel’s gaze, eyes blue and vivid and communicative like they had a mind of their own. Like Castiel was trying to tell him something that he didn’t have words for. “You can call me Cas.” He said, without breaking eye contact with Dean, and never dropping his grin.

 

“I-” Dean cleared his throat, slightly frustrated with himself, and tried to compose his stuttering. “I’m Dean.” He finished with an awkward smile that was mostly directed at Cas.

 

Cas and the four girls all smiled at him, and Sammy was absolutely beaming with happiness and a tinge of mischief.

 

Now, something very few people know about Dean is that he is _highly_ introverted. Despite his womanizer, socialite reputation, Dean Winchester truly despises crowds of strangers--the key word being strangers. Once Dean warmed up to a group, he’d jump in with both feet; like a true introvert though, he wouldn’t last very long. After a couple hours he withdraws to either complete solitude, or to the company of a few close friends, which is usually just Sammy. So in this vivacious new crowd of people, all Dean wanted to do was sit back and observe. He’d gotten very good at understanding how people worked through observation. He could already tell that Jess was the natural leader of the group. She could almost be considered short, yet she took the reigns effortlessly, and none of the other girls balked at her leadership. Jessica was also effortlessly beautiful; curvy and compact with thick, tightly waved blonde hair down to her back. She was dressed in a purple half shirt with fraying edges, and white washed shorts that wrapped tightly around her middle; occasionally, she wore a white flower tucked in her hair, which Sam had given her earlier. Sammy was wonderfully starstruck by Jessica, leaving Dean to smirk at how smitten he was. Good for him though, he didn’t know many pretty girls. Anna, on the other hand, was the opposite of Jessica’s loud and bold personality. She possessed a gentle strength, and the more Dean watched the more he began to see her as the mother of the group. April had skinned her knees earlier, and though April had laughed and carried on, Anna had quietly insisted that she clean them and keep them out of the mud. Anna kept fading in and out of the group, one second there and the next she vaporized. Dean was immediately attracted to her unobtrusive presence. Several times he’d caught her watching him like he was watching her, and she would blush a light pink and avert her earthy brown doe-eyes to the ground. Her willowy figure was clothed in an off white sun dress, giving her pale skin a gentle glow. Anna was immediately his favorite girl. Then there was Charlie, who could be described in one word: awkward. Not that it was negative at all, in Dean’s opinion, but she had a slight lisp, like she’d pressed her tongue a little too far into the roof of her mouth, and she had the tendency to speak with a disjointed hurriedness to her words. Dean found her intriguing, and whenever she found interest in a conversation a wide grin would stretch itself across her slightly crooked teeth, and it’s joyous light reached all the way to her hazel eyes and shone out. Where Anna was willowy, Charlie was skinny. She wore a light green sleeveless shirt and a flowy off white skirt. She had sharper cheekbones and waiver hair than her other ginger counterpart, and Dean distinguished them easily; Charlie was obviously the brains and the prepared one of the group, but the others seemed to take care of her like older siblings. Lastly, there was April. He didn’t have much observation on her, as it seemed that the other three girls had been close friends for quite a while and April was the newcomer in the group. It was almost imperceptible, except to Dean, but she stood on the fringes of the group. With the way she hung on Cas though, Dean assumed that Cas had brought her into the group. Cas was obviously the single male counterpart of the group, almost like they were his little harem. Not in any sort of derogatory way to the girls, but Dean got the impression throughout the day that Cas had brought the girls together, and that they were something more than friends with the strikingly beautiful Castiel. None of them seemed to hang on him like April, and she almost began to annoy Dean, whereas the rest of the girls all brought their own interesting element to the table and Dean took a liking to them. Sam was having the time of his life, mostly with Jess, and Dean was content to do nothing but watch. However, after lunch, Sam informed him that he, Jess and Charlie were all going to explore some more.

 

“Explore. Really, Sammy?”

 

Sam blinked, obviously confused. Jessica tried to suppress a giggle. “Yeah,” Sam replied, “We’re going exploring? I mean, if that’s alright with you?” His little brother was looking thoroughly confused, and it seemed less like he was asking if he could go and more like he was asking if Dean would be okay by himself. Of course, it was so very Sammy to worry about Dean when that wasn’t even the point he was trying to get across here.

 

“Sam,” Dean replied seriously, “How stupid do you think I am?”

 

Charlie giggled. “No worries, Dean-o, we won’t let your brother get us pregnant.” Jess grinned and her and Charlie fell into laughter while Sam rolled his eyes. Dean was still watching him carefully.

 

Sam sighed, realizing what Dean was getting at. “Okay, exploring may involve getting high but don’t worry, okay?”

 

Dean shrugged. “You wanna get high, I told you that was fine. But be honest with me, kay?”

 

Sam looked relieved and nodded, professing his thanks before dashing off with Charlie and Jess, giggling the whole way.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean bonds with Anna

 

_We are stardust_

_We are golden_

_And we've got to get ourselves_

_Back to the garden_

When Sammy frolicked of with his girlfriends, Dean suddenly felt distinctly alone. He'd been fine with Sam nearby, a familiar element in a sea of newness. The loneliness didn't last long, as Anna appeared at Dean's side.

 

"Hello." She said shyly. Dean turned to her with a smile, recognizing that quiet voice.

 

"Hey,"

 

Anna had been testing the waters a bit, standing awkwardly beside where Dean was sitting, and apparently she accepted his smile as friendly because she took a seat next to him. After she crossed her legs and got comfortable beside him, Dean spoke again.

 

"So what are you doing, talking to me, beautiful? I'm hardly the life of the party." His flirty tone made Anna blush and smile a little wider.

 

"I like people," She said, "And you looked interesting."

 

"And a little out of place?" Dean finished her thought, knowing what she was getting at. Anna nodded.

 

"But I like people who don't quite fit. Obviously." She gestured towards her attire. "This  place is a bit of an enigma, because we who normally don't fit, fit, and people like you who normally fit, don't."

 

Dean shrugged. "I don't fit in much of anywhere." Anna looked sympathetic, and Dean realized how much had just slipped out to this virtual stranger. He didn't know Anna, but something about her pushed him to honesty, something he usually avoided.

 

"I know how that feels." She said, looking at the ground. "And I am so thankful for Castiel." She sounded almost wistful, but as she said his name a tender sort of love filled her eyes; the same look she would give Charlie or Jessica when they did something endearing. Dean saw his opportunity to get the story on Cas, and he took it.

 

"So what's the story with that guy anyway?"

 

Anna blinked for a moment, looking confused as if he'd just snapped her out of a daydream. "Cas?" She asked, "Oh he's an angel. And my best friend. He's the reason I'm a hippie at all." Dean noted with a tinge of jealousy the fondness she spoke of him with. Anna continued. "I used to be a perfect little christian girl from a republican home. God knows that's changed. Cas and I have been friends since I was born, and I ran away with him when I was 16. He showed me how to live and how to love." She turned to Dean and smiled. "That's my story; what's yours?"

 

Dean was a little thrown off by the question. People didn't usually ask him things like that; they asked Sam. Sam was the interesting one, the one with all the potential, and the one with the story. Besides that, Dean had a reputation for being closed off, and somehow, he found himself looking into Anna's curious eyes and answering.

 

"Well, I'm here for Sammy. I don't really fit in with this crowd, but I'd do anything for that kid and this is what he wanted, so here I am. Our dad is kinda... Distant, so I told him I'd take him down here. I don't mean to be rude, but this whole hippie thing isn't really my style."

 

"I know." Anna said with amusement. "You think I can't tell?" Her response wasn't rude by any stretch. Honestly, Dean had never met a rude hippie; she was just accepting of him as he was. Then she smiled widely again. "Might a smoke be "your thing" though? Cause I'm about to light up." She extended a joint to him, and, against his better judgement, Dean accepted it. It's certainly untrue to say that Dean was some sort of blushing virgin when it came to drugs, or sex for that matter, but he didn't get high often and lately he'd been having a complex about it, thinking he'd been a bad example to his little brother. A good buzz would be nice though, and although he'd prefer whiskey, a joint would do the job too, and that's what he'd been offered anyway. He always felt awkward asking for things around hippies because they'd pretty much give you whatever you asked with no qualms, and he felt he didn't deserve that because he didn't adopt their lifestyle.

 

He was really glad he took the joint, because after a little while Anna had her head in his lap, and was staring at the sky and starting to get really deep--which Dean wouldn’t have been able to handle unless he was high. They had somehow gotten onto the subject of children, whether they were good, bad, or overpopulating the earth, and Anna wound up telling him she’d had an abortion. She’d run away with Cas for a lot of reasons, freedom, for one, she'd said, and Cas was offering, for another, and she had recently realized she was pregnant. Of course she didn’t want to have the baby, because “We’re all just children, Dean. When do we ever really grow up? When do we become good enough to raise another human soul? I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.” She also said she didn’t tell Cas until they were three states over from the guy who’d gotten her pregnant, and that it was the only time she’d ever seen Castiel get really, truly angry. He’d taken her to a clinic as soon as she’d asked him. Dean, for his part, encouraged her.

 

“Anna, you would have made a great mother. You’re the least selfish person I know”

 

Anna laughed, sitting up and facing him. Somewhere along the way she’d picked up a flower crown of daisies which now sat lopsided on her head. “You hardly know me.” She said, blinking at him with huge eyes. He shrugged, and a faded smile flickered on her lips. She pressed her face into him like a cat and kissed his jawbone. Naturally, that was the moment when Sam reappeared; Dean was too buzzed to feel embarrassed or jump away. He just smiled broadly at his brother, Jess, and Charlie, two of whom looked higher than a kite. Those two would be his brother and Jess, as Charlie seemed to be their designated “don’t-get-so-high-you-can’t-find-the-tent-again” person. She was looking exasperated when Cas and April reappeared: from where, Dean didn’t have the cognitive functions to guess. When Cas saw Anna he raised an eyebrow questioningly and Dean saw protectiveness in his eyes. Like a little sister, Dean thought, recalling Anna’s words. April rubbed herself against Cas before overly dramatically declaring that she needed to lie down. Cas smiled, neither encouraging nor hateful, and once again, April disappeared out of the picture.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas get cozy

_Then can I walk beside you_

_I have come here to lose the smog_

_And I feel to be a cog in something turning_

It isn’t a myth about Woodstock that everyone sits around camp fires and sings kumbaya; however, the Winchesters, Cas, and the girls sat around the campfire and talked about something _completely_ different.

 

“I had this one girlfriend who used to play with my hair and call me pet. It was super weird but she was also a drug dealer and so I got a lot of hookups.” It was Charlie speaking, who, as was addressed earlier in the conversation, is all for free love but prefers the free-lovin to be with girls. Here, she paused thoughtfully. “Is that selfish?”

 

Dean laughed at that. They’re all _fucking faded_ and everything is far more hilarious than it rationally should be. “Nah, that ain’t selfish.” Dean was slurring a bit at this point, having dropped the weed mostly and having found the liquor stash. “One time I had a girlfriend because she was the most popular girl in my highschool and I wanted to have a threesome with her best friend, who was way hotter.” Dean hiccuped here and forgot the rest of the story, if there even was more. Charlie laughed, leaning over her head onto Anna. They’d been getting cozy all night and Dean couldn’t tell whether is was friendship, if they were a thing, or what; however, the lines of friendship seemed to be very blurred here because everybody was sleeping with everybody regardless of gender, and without commitments. It fascinated him. Equally as fascinating was who decided to pair up with him. Obviously Anna and Charlie were about to have a thing, and Sam and Jess better have a thing or he’d hurt somebody, and April was MIA, leaving only one person for Dean: Cas. Then again, it’s not like Cas was some last ditch effort on Dean’s part to get laid; he’d been captivated by the ragtag group’s leader since he laid eyes on him, and Cas’ whole left side was now pressed up on Dean and Dean was finding it hard to breathe. Normally, this was not Dean. It had taken him a really long time to get _himself_ comfortable with the fact that he liked boys too, and Dean was most definitely not ready for the whole world to know. Sam was the only person he’d told, and Sam had smiled and sagely said: “I know.” Dean had a few boyfriends, all kept on the down-low, of course, because he shivered to think what John would do if he found out. Apparently he had literally shivered, and Cas turned to him, their breaths smoking out in the chilly air and blending together.

 

“Cold?” He asked, and Dean couldn’t tell if he was being seductive or sensitive. There was a tinge of both in his cerulean eyes. Cas’ smirk grew wider, his eyes brighter, and slowly the conversation around them melted away. “This should warm you up.” Cas whispered, inches from Dean’s face. The instant that Cas’ lips touched his, a bolt of heat and electricity shot through Dean. He found himself kissing back, slowly, almost reverently, before Cas pulled away slowly, dragging Dean’s bottom lip between his teeth as he went. Dean stared at him, warmth still traveling through his body like an electric current. Then, Cas grinned comically and turned back to the strangely quiet circle. Turns out, everyone had gotten the exact same idea at the exact same time Dean and Cas had; Anna was in Charlie's lap, Sam had Jess leaned all the way back to flat on her back on the ground and he was peppering her face with kisses while she giggled. Cas chuckled quietly, and then stood and turned around in front of Dean, offering his hand and an invite in his eyes.

 

“Shall we?” Dean swallowed hard, and, unable to speak, nodded mutely. Cas smiled and Dean took his extended hand, intertwining their fingers in a gesture that was usually way too domestic for him. Whether it was the drugs and the booze or just Cas, he had no reservations this time. Once they got in the tent, Dean’s palms were a bit clammy and he was unsure of himself, but Cas easily glided into the seat of power with no reservations. Dean was on his back within seconds, left surprised, panting, and very turned on. Ever since Rhonda Hurley messed him up (in a deliciously wonderful way) with her commands and her panties Dean had always been a little on the submissive side. Just a little. He didn’t have time to think about that though, because Cas had him fascinated. Unfortunately, after the shirts were off, Cas kept swatting Dean’s hand away when he tried to take it further; still, it wasn’t like this wasn’t good enough or anything, because the way Cas was kissing a line from jaw to his stomach had him about ready to cream his pants like a horny teenager. Which he just barely wasn’t. Whenever Cas started working his way back up to Dean’s face Dean was fully frustrated enough to bitch at him but all he could muster was an irritated groan. Cas reached his lips and Dean could feel the smile on his face and feel the laughter in his chest. Finally collecting his words, Dean managed “ _Please_ ,” and before he could say more Cas shifted positions to where he was now gazing down at Dean with an amused look on his face.

 

“Nuh uh.” Cas said, still amused, but his tone was rather final. Dean whimpered and Cas laughed, helping him up from the blanket-pallet they’d previously been laying on and onto the mattress. “You’re not all here, Dean. I’m not going to allow you to make a choice I don’t know that you truly want to make.” Dean blinked, confused, frustrated, and lastly, awed. Instead of acting on the last one, he went for whiny.

 

“Cas, come on,” Dean could hear himself slurring and he really really wanted to be un-drunk right now, “I’m sure you’ve done it with _lots_ of high people, _Caaas!_ ”

 

They were now propped up on a thin mattress covered in quilts and old-but-clean pillows, and Dean was slouched against Cas, staring up at his face; pleading with him, and hating that he had drank so much. Cas just smiled and shoved his fingers through Dean’s hair. Dean closed his eyes and leaned into the petting, snuggling closer into Cas. After a moment, Cas answered him.

 

“I do have a lot of sex with a lot of high people, Dean, but consent is always acquired beforehand and we never do it when it’s our first time together. Humans and their rights to themselves and their happiness must _always_ be respected. _People_ must always be respected.”

  
Dean was still somewhere in the middle of processing Cas’ statement when exhaustion crashed over him like a tide and he fell asleep on Cas’ shoulder.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas shares an incident from his past with Dean.

_Well maybe it is just the time of year_

_Or maybe it's the time of man_

_I don't know who l am_

_But ya know life is for learning_

 

The very first thing Dean noticed when he opened his eyes was sunlight. Everywhere. The tent was way too see-through for his liking as it couldn’t be too far past 9, but there were small sounds of life outside the tent. The muted tones of the outside world were a strange comfort despite the fact that normally he woke up to silence. Next, Dean realized that he was not alone. Another warm body was next to him, pressed against his back, while he faced the tent wall. Slowly, the events of last night came creeping back to him, and he blushed scarlet as he rolled over to gaze up at Cas.

 

“Mornin’, Cas.” Dean greeted awkwardly. Cas was sitting with his calves layed over on each other, and his feet resting on his knees, similar to the position he’d found Sammy in just yesterday. God, had it only just been 24 hours? Cas opened his eyes and looked down on Dean.

 

“Good morning, darling. You’ve overslept a bit.”  

 

_Darling?_

 

Dean blushed deeper. “Coulda just left me…” He mumbled, sitting up and scrubbing his face. He had a roaring headache and he was rolling with nausea. Honestly, he was horrifically hungover. He'd only been barely drunk last night; still, he really wanted to be sick over a bucket: drinking and drugs clearly wasn’t best combination. When the nausea passed enough for him to regain coherent thought, he looked back up at Cas, who had an appalled look in his eyes.

 

“No one who enjoys my company wakes up alone, Winchester.” He answered, and then he offered Dean his hand once again, pulling him off the mattress and out into the vibrant world outside the tent.

 

“I’m assuming you’re hungry?”

 

Whenever Dean got outside the tent the light blinded him, and hands appeared on his shoulders while he was still regaining sight, and he flailed at them. When his vision cleared, he was looking down into the concerned and vaguely amused face of his little brother.

 

“Just so you know,” Sammy informed him, “You scared the _shit_ out of me last night, disappearing drunk and-” Here his tone shifted into suggestion, “I wrongly assumed-alone.”

 

Cas laughed and patted Dean’s other shoulder, the one Sammy wasn’t holding onto during his brief medical examination, in a signal for him to follow later and then left the brothers to talk alone for a moment.

 

“But you’re alright?” Sam asked; Dean rolled his eyes.

 

“Sammy, I’m not twelve. This isn’t my first hangover.”

 

“There is nothing wrong with being twelve and I think you knew what I was asking.” Sam waved his eyebrows suggestively, and Dean huffed and scrubbed his face.

 

“Not my first hook up either.” He moved his hands down and his tone turned exasperated. “And dammit, Sam, it’s too early for you to be playing matchmaker!”

 

Sam grinned. “It’s nearly eleven.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

Sam just grinned his stupid self satisfied grin and Dean went to follow Cas, who was standing at a distance watching, when he turned back to rebuttal with his own snarky comment. “And what about you and Jess? Was that your first hookup?”

 

Sam blushed and looked at his feet. Dean donned a satisfied smirk. “That’s what I thought.” He muttered and then trotted after Cas.

 

Let it be known that Dean was only barely trotting. In the moment, he hadn't really considered how positively shitty he would feel the next morning when he was chugging whiskey and taking joints. This was why he didn't like being high--he always ended up drunk too and the morning after was always absolute hell. He stumbled on his unsteady legs, and when he breached the short distance to Cas, Cas extended a hand and looked thoroughly concerned.

 

"You alright, Winchester?"

 

Dean couldn't tell whether to grin and nod and fake it like he had for Sammy, or to be honest. He had already been uncharacteristically honest with this mysterious Castiel, and he was about to respond with "No, I feel like shit," when his stomach decided that neither of those responses were an option and instead he threw up, thankfully missing Cas' bare feet. Cas quickly went to crouch beside him, supporting Dean with his arm. "Guess that answers my question." He mumbled, more to himself than Dean, and Dean only groaned in response. "C'mon, let's get some liquid in you, okay?" Dean nodded weakly and allowed himself to be led, and almost completely supported by, Cas. The only thing saving his pride from being completely ground to pieces was the fact that Sam hadn't seen any of that. His head felt a little like it was imploding in response to the sun, like every bad piece of vampire literature he'd ever seen. He wanted to shrink away from the penetrating light that was sending daggers of pain spiking through his brain. Through it all, Cas just helped him along, leading him to some makeshift looking stand where they picked up some water. Dean couldn't be completely sure of what Cas paid in, if he paid at all; he was too focused on trying not to be sick all over the sparsely spread grass again to notice much of anything. Once Cas had made sure he had sufficient water, "Come on Dean, you have to drink something. You'll feel better, I promise," Cas walked him away from most of the crowd. Dean was honestly touched by the fact that Cas would think to separate him from the crowd, as it would have gotten to him sooner or later. They sat behind a small hill that blocked the view to the ever-growing mass of people surrounding the stages. Dean was having trouble believing that the event, woodstock, actual woodstock, was happening tomorrow and he wasn't even with the little brother he'd driven here, but hanging out with a virtual stranger and hungover as fuck. But then Cas was running his hands through his hair and asking him if he wanted more water, and it was suddenly okay. Sam was making friends, hell, Sam was falling in love, so why couldn't Dean enjoy himself too? All Dean ever wanted was Sam to be happy, and the blushing grin Sam had on his face earlier had indicated that he was pretty happy. It wasn't that he didn't need Dean or anything, but it was probably good to give the kid some space. Normal siblings don't invite their over-protective older brothers to concerts that are sex, drugs, and rock and roll extravaganzas.  Dean was a little overwhelmed, and the only way he knew how to thank Cas was to lean forward and kiss him.

 

Before he got there, Cas moved aside and laughed. "Slow down, Winchester, you're still recovering. Drink, no distractions." Dean leaned against the hill and consented, taking a drink from the canteen-like carrier Cas had provided. For a moment, Cas just watched him intently, the way that Sam did sometimes, like he was trying to watch the gears of Dean's mind turn. Satisfied with whatever he found in Dean's features, Cas began picking at nearby daisies. Dean watched, fascinated, as he began to weave them into an intricate braid like pattern. For a while, neither spoke, and Dean dealt with his recurring nausea and then contemplated an unfamiliar ache in his chest. Every time Cas would get hyper-focused on his work he'd begin to hum, some tune Dean would have never recognized, but Dean's heart warmed and something that wasn't sickness fluttered in his stomach. A smile worked it's way across his face. Cas glanced up during one such smile and lowered his flowers into his lap.

 

"Feeling better?"

 

Dean nodded, not even bothering to smother his grin. Naturally, Cas smiled back. Dean knew himself well enough to know that he was going to dissect their whole relationship more carefully than Sam inspected books, but in the moment he decided to disregard his worryings about whatever he and Cas were. Cas tilted his head slightly.

 

"What's going on in that mind of yours, Winchester?" He asked.

 

"Nothing," Dean dismissed easily, "What's going on in yours?"

 

"Not much, usually," Cas said with a small laugh, "But right now I'm thinking how pretty you'd look with flowers in your hair."

 

Dean had never blushed harder in his entire life, and of course that just made Cas smirk wider and lean forward again with a single daisy pinched delicately between his fingers. He held it next to Dean’s ear, brushing up against it slightly.

 

“Beautiful.” He said softly.

 

Dean laughed lightly and fidgeted with his hands in his lap a little, unsure of what to do. Cas stuck the flower behind Dean’s ear, but when he went to lean back his button-up jean shirt fell open slightly in the front. Dean caught a glimpse of a harsh red curve of puckered skin. He stared at it for a moment, and when Cas moved his eyes up to Dean’s, he sighed.

 

“What’s that?” Dean asked curiously, while still staring at the area he’d seen the imprint. He was wondering how so peaceful a soul had gotten so violent a scar. Cas grinned bitterly and Dean rushed to assuage his prying when Cas breezed him away, dismissing the “I’m sorry” that was halfway out of Dean’s mouth.

 

“Don’t apologize. You’re asking about my scar, right?” Dean nodded. Cas leaned all the way back and set to unbuttoning his shirt, his shirt falling more open with every button and revealing more of this huge scar that marred Castiel’s chest. Upon first sight, Dean had thought it some sort of weird, arching scratch, but once Cas pulled the separate sides of his shirt apart, he realized that it was some sort of symbol carved into his chest. It was a crudely carved circle right between his nipples, with an open sided-square shape drawn in the middle of it. There were small “x”s on the outside of the circle, just below his ribs. Now that Dean was looking at the whole thing, he could see a triangle just under Cas’ throat, but that scar was far lighter than the rest. The strange symbol looked like something Dean had seen in his history book,  like some sort of ancient hieroglyphic. Cas studied Dean’s expression while Dean studied Cas’ chest. Finally, Dean just muttered “Shit.”

 

Cas dropped his shirt, assuming that Dean had finished his observations. Dean couldn’t even begin to understand how anything like that ever could have occurred, or why, but he judged it must have been quite a while ago because though every cut bumped up from his skin, indicating just how deep he’d been cut, they were too light a pink to be recent.

 

“You have questions,” Cas observed, still watching Dean, looking for some give away, some betrayal of what he was feeling, but honestly, Dean himself didn’t know. Shock? Pain? Confusion? Pity? He hadn’t a clue how to react, so he just nodded, Cas returned to his normal self, an expression of mischief playing back on his face. Now that he was smirking slightly, Dean realized that the way he’d been studying Dean hadn’t been quite Cas. There had been something weird in his expression, a vulnerability, almost a desperation. “You want the long story or the short story?”

 

“Uh, short?” Dean questioned, not sure if that was the correct answer.

 

Cas grinned toothily, and Dean couldn’t tell if that was bitterness or pain behind it, or a combination of both. “My parents were crazier than I am.”

 

Dean stared a little longer, almost wanting to reach out and touch it, like he could smooth the scars away. “I’m so sorry.” He said simply, not sure if he should press further on the subject because Cas seemed torn up; well, torn up if you really studied. It was honestly difficult for Dean to comfort people, as it had never been his forté. Still, in the moment Cas seemed like he needed him, and Dean did the only thing he knew how. He placed his hand over Cas' and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. When he pulled back he left his hand on Cas' and spoke.

 

"I understand if you don't want to to talk about it, but I want you to know that I'm here for you, alright? I may not have known you forever but you are honestly one of the most amazing people I've ever met, and I am so sorry this happened to you." In response Cas just smiled gently, visibly touched, and motioned for Dean to shift and lay his head in his lap. When Dean got in a position to gaze up at Cas his expression had returned to normal, and Dean didn’t feel so conflicted about asking anymore. In the space of a few seconds Cas had forced himself to get a grip on his emotions; he didn’t want to be bitter or sarcastic about this, he worked so hard to be an open book, he’d worked too hard for peace to let the incident affect him anymore. He didn’t want Dean to ever have a doubt about asking him anything.

 

“What’s the long story?” Dean asked innocently after a moment, and Cas smiled fondly down at him and absently played with his hair.

 

“When I was 10 years old my father went crazy. He got hooked into some radical religious group that worshiped angels. When I was 11, my mom died mysteriously, and to this day no one has explained to me what happened. My father really lost it then, and when I turned 12 he thought that he was God." For a moment, Cas choked. He didn't really talk about this much, as Anna tended to try and shield him from questions about it by addressing the matter with anyone who didn't know his story. He took a deep breath to try and steady himself and looked away from Dean. Dean's chest ached, and the impulse to wrap his arms around Cas and hold him close made it ache worse, but he knew he needed to force it down and listen. He felt like Cas just really needed someone to _listen_. After a moment, Cas continued.

 

"He started taking me to his horrific excuse for a church; the whole place was chock full of easily moldable, gullible drones. I listened every single sunday, monday, thursday and friday about how the angels were gonna save me. I didn’t get it. I didn’t understand but it didn’t matter because I was going to be the best kid in the whole group no matter what, because that was the only way my father would notice me. Most of the time at home he staggered around in a drunken stupor, but at church he pulled himself together and managed being sober; at church he could see me. At church I could shine." There was such a sadness in Cas’ eyes when he spoke, like all the desperation of wanting to be seen had left him, and it had left him hollowed out. Dean felt the familiar ache that Cas was feeling. Why had Dean gotten so good with a shotgun? So John would be proud. Why had Dean fixed the Impala from basically scraps? So John would be proud. The list of all the things Dean had done solely to seek praise from John was endless

 

"I was so good, I was so perfect in every _fucked_ up thing they taught that they started telling me I was the one. I didn’t know what that meant, but my father got really excited about it so I did what I was told. They told me I was gonna be a vessel. They told me I was gonna be an angel. My father told me that it was going to take a lot of sacrifice, and I told him I’d sacrifice anything to make him proud. He just looked at me and smiled like a shark. A month later he took me down to the church on a wednesday night for a late night prayer session, and the next thing I knew I was tied to iron hooks on the floor and my sunday school teacher was carving my chest up and my father and the high-order priests were chanting. I screamed until my throat was so raw I felt blood drip down it, and no one even looked at me." It was painfully tragic how all Cas had ever wanted from church was to be seen, and in the moment of his betrayal they wouldn’t even cast him a sidelong glance. They probably knew. They knew that it was wrong to do this to another human, somewhere in the depths of their insanity-riddled minds, they knew.

 

"They’d told my father just yesterday how proud he must be, and they gleamed at me like I was the savior, and now they wouldn’t even look at me. Anyways, the police were called, thankfully before they were finished, and after I got up and into an ambulance, I saw my father being arrested. He was screaming about “avenging his angels” and how they would all “face his wrath at judgement,” when he suddenly looked straight at me and said “You have fallen in _every_ way possible. You have fallen from God.” That was the last time I laid eyes on my father. After that, my aunt legally adopted me and I lived at Anna’s house.” He paused and looked down at his chest for a moment, like it was going to explain to him why this happened, and then he spoke again. "It took me a really long time to forgive my father for that. It took me a really long time to be able to trust anyone, even Anna. But that girl saved me. She saved my life. I've forgiven everyone now, even myself."

 

Dean was at a loss for words; so he babbled. "Wow. That's incredible. Well, not incredible that it happened, but like amazing that you could, ya know, forgive them at all. What happened was just terrible. I’m so sorry Cas."

 

For his answer Cas just pulled at ends of Dean's hair and smiled down at him. They sat in a fairly comfortable silence for a bit, Dean still absorbing Cas' story. Maybe that was why Cas ran away with Anna; if it were Dean in that position he sure as hell wouldn't have wanted to stay in that town. What kind of crazies carved up a 13 year old anyway? And for what? So some dumb "angel" could fuckin posses him? It all made Dean angry and sad at the same time. If anything, Cas had seemed more sad about it. What Dean was really stuck on though was Cas' absolute forgiveness toward them; it made Dean re-evaluate his life, because if Cas could forgive people that tried to kill him, how petty were Dean's grudges? Cas spoke again before Dean could think anything else to say.

 

“That’s where the name Castiel came from, you know.” Cas said quietly, picking at the grass next to him. Dean stared up into his face, confused.

 

“What?”

 

Cas looked back at him with a sadness in his eyes despite the soft smile on his face. “Castiel. When literally translated in latin, it means “to fall from God”, which was what my father told me I had done. Castiel was the name of an angel we used to read about, and I always took a liking to him. The angel of solitude.”

 

Dean sat up and crossed his legs, facing Cas. “That’s beautiful,” He said softly, “but why pick the angel of solitude?”

 

“I felt alone. Even with Anna. I didn’t know how to react to anything except to cry, so the angel of solitude and tears was the one I used to pray to.”

 

Dean remembered prayer. Prayer was a nasty, touchy subject for him. Sam had always believed in God. It was sad to watch the kid get down on his knees every night and pray so earnestly to a being who never responded, but that didn’t bother Sam. Sam just kept truckin along with a smile on his face and a bible in his hand. However, it bothered Dean. The only interaction Dean had with this so-called “God” was in drunken, screaming fights or drunken, sobbing pleadings. Neither of these had ever sat well with Dean, and God never told him shit about anything. God didn’t stop John from getting drunk all the time, and God didn’t save Sam when he got sick. Sam’s prayers, every single night, were calm and collected, and maybe that’s why Sam believed in God. Sam didn’t put as much emotion into it as Dean did, so when Dean flung his anger or sadness or desperation 100% into God and got nothing, it left a bad taste in his mouth for the whole situation. Calm devotion like Sam’s was what God wanted, Dean supposed, and He was never gonna get that from Dean. In this instance, Cas’ praying seemed like it would be more similar to Dean’s praying then Sam’s.

 

“What’s your real name, then?” Dean asked, realizing that if he’d chosen the name Castiel, then there had to be something before Castiel.   

 

Cas rolled his shoulders back and gave a huffy laugh. “It was Jimmy.” He said simply, meeting Dean’s eyes and watching. Personally, Dean liked Castiel better. In both senses: the name and the person who sat in front of him. Jimmy was the boy who was desperate to shine, loyal to an absent father, and nothing like the shining soul that stood before him. Castiel was the rebel, free spirited and loving, and Castiel felt like his true name, like those seven letter were a true home for the manifestation of his soul. Dean felt like Cas knew it too; he knew that Jimmy hadn’t really been him.

 

“I like Cas better.” Dean said after a moment. This earned a happy grin from Cas.

 

“Yeah? Me too.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long absence! I'm going to try to post more regularly, as I've finally finished this story!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Cas consider their fears and feelings towards Dean

_I don't know who l am_

_But ya know life is for learning_

 

“DEEE-AAAN!” Sam called. Jess giggled from his left.

 

“Stop being such a baby Sam. He’s off somewhere with Cas, I’m sure.” She said, draping herself on Sam’s arm. Sam rolled his eyes at her, amused. He wasn’t really worried about Dean, he just wanted to make sure he was okay, especially after the state he’d been in a few hours previously. Dean didn’t think Sam had seen him lose his lunch at Cas’ feet, but, unfortunately, Sam and Jess had been witness to it all. Jess hopped onto her tiptoes and gave Sam a lingering kiss on his cheek. He swatted her away playfully.

 

“Alright alright, I’ll leave it alone, but you have to tell Anna and Charlie to keep an eye out for him. Jess nodded dramatically, flopping her head up and down. Sam watched as her blonde waves glided over her shoulders and he smiled. God, she was beautiful. He knew himself well enough to know that he was pretty damn smitten with this girl, even though he’d only known her for a few days. He didn’t get crushes very often, not like Dean did. Dean easily attracted people and serially dated, while Sam tried to keep himself more reserved. Of course, Sam loved and had a deep compassion for everyone, and Dean only sympathized with people he had a remarkable bond with, making Sam the hippie of the two.

 

Yet Jess had Sam head over heels with every single aspect of her, the way she talked and laughed and how amazingly smart she was, how she understood people like Sam did and she didn’t eat meat and she kissed little kids on the top of the head and just _everything_ about her made Sam smile like an idiot. She wasn’t all sunshine and niceties though, she was spunky and she wasn’t afraid to make fun of him, or drag him wherever she wanted him to go, like she was now. It was honestly killing Sam that he had to meet her here, now, somewhere any sort of future with her was impossible. Sam lived in the real world; he knew she wasn’t going to end up living in the town over from him and he knew that he had to go home. So while Sam knew all that, he let himself feel anyways, he just kept himself prepared for the fallout and didn't hold any false hopes.

 

He knew, however, that his brother _didn't_ live in the real world. What Dean had with Cas was incredible, and Sam wanted with every fiber of his being for them to work out because Dean was happier then Sam had ever seen him. But in four days the Winchesters were going to pack their car up and leave this place forever, and that was going to mean leaving behind all their wonderful new friends, including Jess and Cas. Sam honestly didn't think that Dean had considered any of that yet, because it wasn’t like Dean to think ahead like that. He lived in the moment, and it's beautiful and Sam wished he could live like that, but that simply meant that Dean was going to be all the more torn up. Sam knew too, Sam knew Dean well enough to know exactly how he would react when the realization of "holy shit I'm leaving in less than a week" hit him. He'd shut down. He’d lock Cas out and Sam too and he’d spend the last bit of the trip holed up in the tent, as if that would make anything hurt less. So Sam felt the need to keep up the illusion that this wasn’t the real world. He didn’t want Dean to realize they were leaving until they pulled out of the farm in four days. Sam was hoping that Cas could be a wonderful memory for Dean like Jess would be for him, and he didn’t want Dean to soil the memory by not seeing Cas for the last few days.  Sam just wanted Dean to be happy. That’s why he was so eager to check up on Dean constantly; it was less about his physical condition as his emotional one. Sam just didn’t want him to shut down.

 

**********

 

At the moment though, Dean was far from shutting down. He'd fallen asleep on Cas, and Cas was running his fingers through Dean's hair while drool soaked into his jeans. It was funny, and Cas was a bit glad Dean was asleep. They were both exhausted: Dean physically and Cas emotionally. It had been years since he'd talked about "The Incident", and it still hurt. While he had finally found forgiveness, finding a silver lining among all the evil had proved to be more difficult. Cas knew that he wouldn't be here right now if this scar was not on his chest. There would be no Dean in his lap and probably not a smile on his face either. The Incident had severed all his ties to his hometown and had given him freedom.

 

Sometimes he wondered what it would feel like to fly, and he thought it might feel a bit like this. Somewhere inside him he'd sensed this overwhelming sensation of falling since Dean had opened his mouth for the first time around him. Cas only wished he could sprout wings like the angel he was supposed to become before he hit the ground. And he would, inevitably, if he allowed himself to fly he'd have to accept the impact as well. Wearing his heart on his sleeve had always been hard for him, since he was highly reserved as a child, and his natural ruthless objectivism continued to make it hard for him to show strong emotion. Falling, flying, what was the difference? What was the difference as long as he had Dean, for however long he could?

 

**********

 

Dean, of course, was oblivious to all the people who had their minds on him and his future. He slept soundly through Sam’s concern and Cas beginning to fall for him. He was falling for Cas too, he just didn’t quite know it yet. To his head, it was just a silly crush to pass the time while Sam had fun. His heart however, was not deluded by the walls Dean’s brain constructed because he was scared to love people. The truth was that Dean had never really loved anyone besides Sam, and because of that his love for Sam had become all consuming. Now though, Cas’ presence had been planted in Dean’s heart like a little seed, and as Dean slept on, his feelings for Cas had started to bloom.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't very plot heavy, which is why I'm uploading 2 at once! Enjoy :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean realizes he is really and truly falling for Cas

_We are stardust_

_We are golden_

_And we've got to get ourselves_

_Back to the garden_

 

For the second time, Dean woke up to another warm body against his. It was truly quite a pleasant experience and Dean wondered if this was what marriage was like. A girl he'd dated once had been incredibly insistent on the most literal form of "sleeping together," and she'd always told him marriage was getting to wake up next to your best friend. He'd always laughed and kissed her on those mornings, but now he understood the sentiment. For a while he thought that he was in love that girl, but then she had a severe mental break and she'd had to end it for the sake of her own health. They remained good friends, and he made a note to visit her when he got back and tell her he finally understood marriage. With a yawn, he realized he'd dated a lot of interesting people. Cas stirred behind him, and startled awake.

 

"Cas?" Dean questioned, unable to see his face.

 

A laugh sounded from behind him. "I'm fine Dean. Hell, what time is it?"

 

Dean glanced at the sun, which was close enough to the west that it had to be around 5. "Fuckin late."

 

"And how are you feeling?" Cas asked, moving to where he was facing Dean. Dean scrubbed his face.

 

"A lot better. Not much of a headache anymore."

 

Cas smiled and started to stand. "Good. I dare say we've slept that day away. Your brother is probably wondering where you are." Cas offered him a hand to help him up. As he took it, a bolt of anxiety shot through him.

 

_Shit, Sam._

 

"Damn." Dean mumbled.

 

"Don’t worry about it, we'll head back now." Cas paused and smirked. "I bet he's high off his ass somewhere." Dean groaned as Cas began pulling him back into the smoky fray of the Woodstock crowd. The concert was _tomorrow_. Dean couldn't tell if he was excited to have something really to do, or if he was just going to be annoyed the whole time. Then again, hopefully Cas would provide some entertainment. He suddenly remembered he'd been making out with Cas when he fell asleep and laughed at the memory, not remembering the last time he'd been so sick and exhausted that he couldn't keep himself awake enough to kiss someone. At home, it wouldn't be overly dramatic to say that he was the best kisser for at least a three county radius. Except for maybe one girl who was so good she sold her services. Dean preferred just having the kiss be returned. As an experienced veteran, he could honestly say Cas was one of the best kissers, probably because he got a lot of practice. Dean couldn't imagine that there was a lot to do in Cas' van besides, well, Cas himself.

 

"Dean!" Dean's head snapped toward the sound of Sam's voice. Sam and Jess were giggling and stumbling toward him. "Good to see you!" Sam said with a slight slur to his voice. Cas halted and turned to Sam.

 

"Greetings." Cas said with a laugh as Sam collapsed into his arms. Sam laughed.

 

"Hey."

 

Jessica followed and stuck her head to the side of Sam's, grinning widely. They both looked absolutely happy, and Dean had the strange thought that Jessica reminded him vaguely of a golden retriever.

 

"I'm fuuuuckinh starving." Sam said, while attempting to stand steadily on his own. Cas turned back to Dean and they shared a smile of amusement at the two stoned kids.

 

"Let's get you some dinner then." Cas said in a playful tone.

 

"Hell yes!" Jess responded enthusiastically, grabbing Sam's hand and bounding off toward the tent. Cas offered Dean his hand and they set out after Sam and Jess.

 

It was a new experience for Dean, holding hands with a boy and walking through such a populated area. Normally he would _never_ risk that. He wasn't sure if he was still so uncomfortable with his sexuality that he was afraid of everyone else's reactions, or if he was just terrified that it would get back to John. He told himself it was the second. Whatever it was, Dean had always sort of been partial to PDA; he loved to show off his partners to the world. Of course, it sometimes caused resentment when he couldn't--or wouldn't--do it with his boyfriends. One boy had left him because he thought Dean was ashamed of their relationship; he wasn't, of course, not at all. He had never shut up about that boy to Sam, but he just couldn't do it. This moment with Cas though was making him want to tell the world of how he felt about boys and hold his boyfriend's hands no matter where they were. Dean had a theory that love was all the little things. He wasn't into grand gestures of commitment; he would never ask someone to take a bullet for him; he was more touched by the fact that you made him breakfast and remembered that chocolate chip pancakes are his favorite. So here he was, falling in love with all the little things Cas did. The way he carefully measured out the noodles for what he was making:

 

_"Cas, stop being so anal about the stupid pasta," Dean said with a laugh. Cas just grinned back._

_"Haha, anal," Sam had said._

The way he hummed when he concentrated too hard, the way he was constantly throwing concerned glances at Dean, making sure he was still doing okay. It made Dean smile.

 

Cas finished dinner and Charlie and Anna materialized, both of their hair looking more mussed up than normal. Dean gave Charlie a suspicious up down look and cocked his eyebrows suggestively. Charlie stuck her tongue out at him from across the circle, but she couldn't keep the smile off her face. They were cute, they really were--Anna constantly trying to mother Charlie, and Charlie constantly acting like a petulant child with a gleam of mischief in her eyes. Anna, though she tried to put on a front of annoyance, loved it. At one point she'd tried to force pasta into Charlie, who had been insisting she wasn't hungry. "Charlie, you _have_ to eat dinner!" Charlie had smirked, pulled Anna closer, and commented, "I'm gonna eat you for dinner." Anna squeaked, blushing a deep red, and Charlie laughed. "Charlie!" She reprimanded, glancing around to see if anyone had heard them. Dean pretended he hadn't. Then she turned back to Charlie and grinned shyly. Dean had glanced at Sam, who had clearly heard the comment, and was stoned as fuck as well, and he waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

 

After all the food had been served, a joint was passed around.

 

"Is this like dessert for you people?" Dean asked, feigning shock.

 

Charlie grinned. "No, it's more like potatoes for Hobbits. We have it for breakfast, second breakfast, elevensies, luncheon," she took a hit and passed to Anna, "and so on."

 

"Nerd." Anna teased, and passed the joint. Right before it got to Dean, Cas leaned over and whispered in his ear.

 

"Maybe not tonight." Cas suggested. A shiver went down Dean’s spine. He didn't really have to consider what that meant, coming from Cas. Dean and Cas both passed on the joint, and no one noticed. They all sat around and chatted for probably an hour before Anna and Charlie decided to bid the group goodbye. Dean, for his part, was absolutely not going to let them disappear without giving them any shit.

 

"And where are you two going?"

 

They both turned, and Anna looked like she was chewing on an excuse, when Charlie flashed him her most enigmatic grin and said: "We're gonna get high and fuck each other senseless."

 

Dean, although startled by the response, laughed. Anna blushed slightly but giggled as well.

 

"Let's go, baby." Charlie said with a grin, grabbing Anna's hand. She playfully curtsied and they were off out into the night.

 

That left Sam, Dean, Cas, and Jess laying on their backs staring up into the starry night.

 

"Do you ever just think, Dean?” Cas asked suddenly.

 

Dean batted a bleary eye at Cas; he'd almost been asleep for a moment.. “I try not to.” He responded wryly, a crooked grin on his face. Cas returned the smile.

 

“But do you ever just consider that you are a product of the universe? That you are made up of the billion year old carbon from the heart of a star?”

 

Dean let out a breathy laugh and snuggled closer to Cas. “Figures, Anna gets personal when she’s high and you get deep late at night.”

 

Cas didn’t respond to Dean’s comment, but rather continued to stare up at the stars, twinkling white against the navy-black sky.

 

“We are stardust.” Dean mused quietly, his tone suddenly serious as he stared upward. Cas turned from the sky and stared at Dean like he hung the very stars that they were discussing. After a moment of silence Dean turned to look at him.

 

“What? Why are you staring at me like that?” He asked, feeling awkward.

 

Cas just continued to stare. Dean once again got the feeling that Cas could see his every thought, like he was completely stripped naked under his blue-eyed gaze. And maybe he was.

 

“We are stardust, Dean.” Cas repeated. “We are the newly sprouting life of a long ago death. How is it that we, insignificant meat creatures, are made of the same stuff as the glorious lights that illuminate the universe?” He paused for a moment, pondering an answer to his own question. “We, as humans, as life after death, are unequivocally, irrevocably important because stars died so that we might live.”

 

Now it was Dean’s turn to stare in awe. In another situation, his skin may have crawled from the chick-flicky-ness, but instead, he was touched. Cas was staring hard at him like he was waiting for some kind of response. Dean couldn't think of any words to rival that, so he just blinked at Cas in return. Cas suddenly moved a hand to the back of Dean's head, pushed them together, and kissed him hard. All talk of the universe was forgotten, and instead Cas' kisses fell over him like stars.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure: star simile in the last line stolen from Richard Siken's "Saying Your Names" from Crush. (Which is a great read btw if u like poetry at all give Siken a read)


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